


Bottled Heart

by DemonSheep (Malicei)



Series: Original Fiction [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alchemy, Gay Robots, How does one make fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Magic Realism, Magic meets Robots, Original Fiction, Other, Plot With Porn, Repressed emotions make magic, but are still bad, mechanic, plot is good, sub doesn't mean "I wanna get raped", sub with a backbone, the stuck up one's the proud perv, they actually respect each other it's cute, they're both a tease, totally destroying yo uke/seme dymanics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malicei/pseuds/DemonSheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuri never much cared for the bottle alchemists.</p><p>It was not quite right, he felt, to wear another's emotions over your own with a sip from a bottle.  Unnatural and somehow dishonest, really, because no matter what the laws said about emotions being just another product to sell and use, it wasn't like they were really yours.<br/>It was unsettling to know that the perfect smile lighting up the room was not at all inspired by an genuine happiness on their new owner's part, rather, it was more likely they were either bored stiff or sneering internally. It gave him chills to think about.</p><p>Then he met the infamous Dominique Stallone (the grumpiest alchemist who ever did grump) and his illegal, hyperactive sex-bot.</p><p>...Well, Yuri could no longer say his life was unexciting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bottled Heart

Yuri never much cared for the bottle alchemists.

 

It was not quite right, he felt, to wear another's emotions over your own with a sip from a bottle.  Unnatural and somehow dishonest, really, because no matter what the laws said about emotions being just another product to sell and use, it wasn't like they were really yours.

It was unsettling to know that the perfect smile lighting up the room was not at all inspired by an genuine happiness on their new owner's part, rather, it was more likely they were either bored stiff or sneering internally. It gave him chills to think about.

The bottling of emotions never quite sat well with him.  It was a well-known fact that it was very easy to get addicted on bottles of pure euphoria, so while the sight of addicts stumbling around drunk on liquid bliss was at least much safer than the alcoholics of old who were more prone to violence, the effects were just as frightening. More subtle as well, to wake up one morning and find that you'd accomplished nothing in your bliss and given away your life savings just for one more smile.

Then there were the alchemists who bottled their own emotions to sell for fifty gold a bottle, leaving them almost empty shells of people with only the emotions which never sold as well. Frustration. Depression. Resentment. Jealousy. Greed. Pride. The more passive and passive aggressive sorts, which would make them ticking time bombs if they didn't immediately bottle their bursts of anger for just a bit more gold.

As such, they tended to be the most horribly wretched people to be within the vicinity of, as you could just feel the negativity rolling off of them (which only grew larger without an outlet.) Yuri wouldn't be surprised if one day it  just grew until it hit breaking point, and they physically exploded like a particularly over-pressured boiler.

Although Yuri's job as mechanic wasn't in the least pleasant or well paid, it was honest, natural work. Machinery fulfilled their purpose in life, nothing more, nothing less. Yuri's job in the government was to fix the broken ones which strayed from their calling, and it satisfied him like nothing else to know he could return things to the right path.

 _Although_ , he flinched as he avoided a jet of boiling hot oil aimed at his face, _some didn't realise they were broken and needed fixing_. It was absolutely baffling, to be able to plainly see a machine which was not carrying out its programmed purpose insisting that it wasn't broken. They, along with their oftentimes overly attached owners, tended to put up the biggest struggle.

 

As he restrained the crying owner (feeling unreasonably guilty despite  doing the right thing), he wondered why people were so confusing.

 

* * *

 

He didn't think about the subject again until a few months later, when he was tasked with resetting a Magnus-RC 2046 Humanoid Companion which belonged to the Dominique Stallone, infamous rogue alchemist known for his brilliance (and his _surliness_ ) which made the rest of his fellow pricks look downright _pleasant_.

Yuri sighed, pulling down his goggles from his dull brown, bird's nest excuse for hair and rubbed his forehead tiredly. Grabbing his extreme heat-resistant trench coat (which he had taken to wearing after the mission where he'd gotten third degree burns along his abdomen), he holstered his stun guns before stepping outside.

 

* * *

 

Despite being armed to the teeth on the job as a matter of course, he rang the doorbell politely like anyone else.

Silence, for a few seconds, then a _"Just a moment!_ " rung down from somewhere above him in the tower.

Yuri took the time  to observe his environment, taking note of potential threats and cover just in case it turned violent. The alchemist's tower was menacing figure to behold in the landscape, made of sleek black stone which ended somewhere close to cloud height with the typical pointed roof. _Surely, Stallone didn't need that much space?_ It was doubtful that such a traditional building would be outfitted with a proper working elevator, and he groaned at the thought of _all the bloody **stairs**_.

_Fucking alchemists._

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a cheerful "Hi! How may I help you?!" which was completely at odds with his mental image of Stallone.

"Err-" he started, taken aback by the cheerful looking man being consumed by a frilly orange monstrosity of a dress. Were those… _nipple tassels_? Yuri rocked back on his heels as the pretty-boy leant forward curiously, trailing his blinding blue hair in Yuri's face and invading his personal space bubble. He smelt like lavender, Yuri noted, wincing as he tried his best to subtly back away from the madman. Because he _had_ to be mad or colour-blind to think his outfit looked good on him.

Then again, Yuri had always been the conservative sort. He preferred to say that he wore timeless classics, but the fact of the matter was that Yuri was more comfortable in his woolly jumpers than the neon monstrosities this man wore like a second skin. It _was_ pretty much a second skin, he blushed as he noticed that the outfit left nothing to the imagination. _Not like you, **gramps**_ , he thought.

He coughed.

"Uh, well. I'm looking for a Mr Dominique Stallone, is he in right now?" he asked, politely.

Neon Blue in front of him (even his _eyelashes_ were blue, come _on!_ ) blinked, tilting his head slightly to the side ( _like a goddamn **puppy** which had gotten into his paints which made him feel guilty for getting annoyed at._ )

"Oh, Master?"

_…Master? What-_

"'Kay, I'll fetch him for you, what's your name?"

Yuri paused. He doubted someone like Stallone would willingly hand over his bot for a factory reset, and he'd heard tales of furious owners hunting down other Government Mechanics for wiping their bot's clean. It had to be done, of course, it was illegal to give robots human-level sentience and intelligence, but some got attached and that was when things got difficult. Some even programmed theirs for use as sexual pleasure, which Yuri had always felt was pretty much rape when they had human-level sentience. It was why Yuri kept up at his job despite its dangers - he enjoyed the sense of satisfaction he felt in relieving a bot of memories it never should have had and bringing their owners to justice.

But there was no doubt that it was a hard job, and that the sort of criminals who owned bots like these were willing to stalk down Government Mechanics and kill him in his sleep.

"Y-Yasha." he said, repressing his urge to ask the bloke about his sense of fashion.

"Yasha? Cool name. Roan, at yo' service!"

And with that Mr Neon-Blue, otherwise known as Roan, literally skipped away, leaving the baffled little mechanic on the doorstep to an alchemist's tower.

 

…Fucking alchemists and their secretaries/servants or ( _wouldn't be surprised_ )weird sex slaves.

* * *

 

_"Maaaaaaaaaa-sterrrrrrr!"_

Dominique glared up through his lashes at his assistant from where he'd been interrupted from a bottling session in his laboratory. Okay, it was his bathroom-turned-laboratory, from the old days when he'd been mixing crystal daze and mana rush like any old drug dealer off the streets. Despite the impressive glamour he kept on the place, his home really was nothing more than your typical home way out in the middle of the country.

He splashed some water from the bubble-bath he was lying in half-heartedly at Roan, who laughed at him.

"Roan. Did you have to interrupt me when I'm very clearly in the middle of something?"

Roan, the bastard, only beamed mischievously. _I knew it was a bad idea to experiment with letting Roan free to experiment with the bottles of cheerfulness_ , he thought. _He's probably doing this on purpose now_.

"Fine. What is it?" he growled grumpily, rolling his eyes and giving him the finger in an impulsive flash of immaturity.

To his credit, Roan didn't even blink. "Someone's at the door who wants you. Say's his name's Yasha?"

 _Didn't sound familiar. A new client, perhaps?_ Raising an eyebrow, Dominique sighed.

"Fine." he muttered as he stood up, unashamedly naked and dripping water all over the floor as he grabbed a bathrobe.

 

Roan wolf-whistled cheekily as Dominique snorted.

* * *

 

Yuri's ( _metaphorical, he was no werewolf although he certainly wasn't against it, he had loads of werewolf friends!_ ) ears perked up at the slight commotion going on inside. He stilled, willing himself to keep quiet in case the conversation inside was going along the lines of "Master, there's an idiotic mechanic  out there, what will you do?" and have it be answered with a "Mechanic? Why, let's turn him into a toad or something equally annoying. Perhaps a worm?"

 

Suddenly, silence. Yuri frown, leaning his ear against the thick oaken door as he strained to pick up on anything.

 

He didn't even hear the tell-tale sound behind him of air being sucked through a wormhole which indicated that the guy had teleported.

"What exactly are you doing, _testing how well my door does as a **pillow**?_ "

 

 Oops.

**Author's Note:**

> I very much doubt this piece will be as popular as the fanficcy stuff I do, but hey, I think it was worth a read.
> 
> Feedback, if you liked it (or even if you didn't?)


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